


Audentes fortuna iuvat

by griffinpuffgirl



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt Endeavour Morse, Injury, Possibly Pre-Slash, Worried Jakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-03-09 18:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18922870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griffinpuffgirl/pseuds/griffinpuffgirl
Summary: Morse is injured while he and Jakes are out chasing a suspect, and poor Jakes is left to get Morse some medical attention before his injuries overwhelm him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My first Endeavour fic! It's not very long, but I liked writing it. This is unbeta'd, so will probably contain some mistakes, as my grammar and spelling are precarious at the best of times!  
> The title : Audentes fortuna iuvat is Latin for 'fortune favours the bold'. I thought it suited Morse, to an extent, though he has terrible luck. But he seems to come out of his constant state of trouble alive, at least.  
> Feedback is appreciated and loved!

“You need the hospital” Jakes repeated, glancing over at Morse’s soaked form critically.

“Find me a hospital in the middle of the goddamn woods and I’ll be more than happy” Morse replied through gritted teeth. His arm was curled around his waist protectively, staining his coat sleeves with dark crimson blood. “Language” Jakes commented quietly, and Morse threw the man an incredulous look. “I was just stabbed” He said. “I think you can excuse my language”

Jakes didn’t reply, just looked again at Morse. He was pale and breathless, his jaw clenched and the arm that snaked around his waist was shaking and bloodied, holding his tie tightly to the wound. His threadbare coat was heavy with the water it had stolen from the lake he’d been pushed into, still dripping wet. Despite this, the detective’s face gleamed with a thin layer of sweat, as if the temperature was that of a warm day, not a cold winters night. Morse watched the night set over the forest, shivering as the coldness of the air embraced him. _Cold as death,_ He thought snidely. The chill only seemed to make the agonising pain flowering around his ribs worse, combined with how long it felt like they’d walked. When had he last eaten? Yesterday Morning? Something like that. Morse desperately wanted to stop, to lie against the ragged bark of a tree and let the coldness take him away. His coat did nothing for his warmth, only succeeded in dragging his figure down.

Rubbing his temples to ward off the stubborn pounding in his head, Morse bit back his nausea as the world spun disconcertingly and pushed himself through the forests, almost tripping over a root as he went. The movement tugged at his side and he winced, swallowing a groan. He could feel Jakes’ gaze on him, but he pointedly didn’t turn to face him. “Morse, you’ll catch your death in that” He said eventually. “It’s soaked through”

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Morse asked, raising an eyebrow. Jakes sighed, looking as if he was having some sort of internal debate. Finally, he shrugged his coat from his shoulders. Morse’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Jakes huffed in reply.

“Freezing to death”

“Take off your coat” Jakes said. “Use it to stem the blood instead of your tie. Wear mine” He passed him his significantly warmer, more expensive coat, but Morse didn’t take it. “It’s the dead of winter, It’s practically artic” Morse frowned. “You’ll freeze”

“I’m not the one currently bleeding all over the bloody floor” Jakes held out his coat again. Morse considered the coat, tilting his head slightly. Truthfully, he was bloody _glacial_. Not to mention the stab wound was steadily getting far worse, pain pulsing through his side like fire. Eventually, he gave in with a sigh and took the coat, painfully working his sodden coat from his shoulders, flinching as he moved his side in an agonising gesture. Jakes took his coat while he replaced it with his, passing it back to him when he had maneuvererd himself uncomfortably into the warmer coat.  Morse pressed his own coat to his injury, grimacing as the pressure sent more strained spikes of pain through his body. “Thank you” He muttered quietly. Jakes didn’t reply, only giving him a sharp nod.

As they continued through the woods, Morse felt light-headedness wash over him, and it took all his will-power to keep his feet moving and not to collapse on the floor. His legs dragged weakly, every movement costing him more and more energy. Jakes seemed to notice the change in his demeanour, and said his name sharply, making his head spin. Closing his eyes briefly, Morse glanced through fuzzy vision at Jakes, who was suddenly awfully close to his face. Morse felt his fingers underneath his neck, and he tried to shy away but Jakes’ grip on his shoulder prevented his weak body from moving. “Your pulse is weak” He commented. “And your lips are _blue_ ”

“That’s because It’s cold” excused Morse quietly.

“My lips aren’t blue, and I’m in a shirt, Morse” Jakes said. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Morse wondered vaguely how Jakes knew his lips weren’t blue, he couldn’t exactly see his lips, could he? However, most of his mind was overwhelmed with coldness and pain and other confused, discernible emotions. “You need a hospital” Jakes murmured. “So you’ve said” Morse said dryly, though the phrase came out much shakier than he would’ve liked. Words were being surprisingly difficult to form. “We’re almost out of the woods now, Morse” Jakes’ said.

“literally or metaphorically?” Morse wondered.

“Literally” Jakes clarified. He paused, before continuing. “Metaphorically speaking you’re very much in the woods. But don’t fret, you’re not going to die, Morse”

Morse didn’t reply, too exhausted and pain-ridden to form any more strings of words. He just kept walking. Walking. Walking. Walking.

Finally, the forest began to thin out, the trees becoming scarcer as Morse pulled himself forward. “There’s a town not far from here, where they’ll be a telephone box, and I’ll call for an ambulance” Jakes informed the other detective, who didn’t even nod, showing no indication that he’d heard Jakes’ statement. Morse stumbled suddenly, stopping abruptly and hunching over, clutching the tree next to him. Morse closed his eyes against the suffocating dizziness that spun around his head. “Morse?” Jakes said sharply. Morse didn’t reply, steadying himself. “Just… give me a minute” He rasped shakily, swaying on his feet.

“Hey, don’t you dare pass out on me, Morse, we’re almost at the town, okay?” Jakes stepped forward just as Morse’s legs gave out beneath him. Jakes swore under his breath, he’d lost too much blood. Far too much blood. “’M sorry” Breathed Morse. “I can’t” He felt his eyes slipping shut. “Lost too much blood”

“Hey – Morse, for Gods – you’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, don’t change that now. We’re almost there, now get the hell up. You’re not dying here” Jakes said. He hooked his arms around Morse and tugged him off the floor, draping his arm over his shoulders and hooking his own arm around Morse’s. Morse moaned softly at the movement, his grey face contorted with pain. With Jakes’ help, Morse managed to struggle out of the forest, into the abandoned streets of whatever town or city they were in.

Jakes led them down streets, until he finally stopped at painfully red telephone box. Jakes considered the detective leaning against him, barely conscious. Carefully, he sat Morse on the floor and yanked open the telephone box’s door, glancing at Morse. “Stay there” He ordered unnecessarily. “Not going anywhere” Morse murmured tiredly as Jakes grappled for the phone. Morse could hear Jakes voice as he spoke into the telephone, but couldn’t distinguish between words, everything turning into slurred notes in his head, fading into drunk, melismatic syllables. When Jakes had finished on the telephone, Morse’s flickering eyes were fighting to stay open, dark with pain and exhaustion. Jakes knelt beside Morse, his fingers pressing again to Morse’s pulse, searching for the drum of his life. “Morse? It’s going to be alright, the ambulance is coming. You’re not going to die here, that would be painfully mundane right? You don’t want to die from a stab wound, not when you could die from a tiger or something equally as mad, do you? What’s the phrase, the bold are favoured? Favoured – that’s the word. The favoured don’t die from simple knife wounds, Morse” Jakes said as if he was scolding an insubordinate officer.

“Its fortune favours the bold” Morse whispered through his tense jaw, his lips tugging into a smile. Jakes rolled his eyes as his lips curved. “If you can correct me on my English of all things, you’re not going to die. So stop being so bloody dramatic and don’t die, okay? Thursday will have my head” Jakes voice cut through Morse’s misarticulate thoughts, and Morse’s eyes flickered towards Jakes.

Jakes was still talking about Thursday when Morse succumbed to nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took a long time to load for a very short chapter. Honestly, I kind of forgot about this, I've been really busy with school work and revision and I got a summer job, so this wasn't really on my mind!  
> It's very short, but enjoy!

Jakes swore when Morse’s body seemed to fold into itself, surrendering to unconscious bliss. Of course, Morse would decide to just faint like some wilting daisy – it was just like him. Prickly and annoying. Grabbing Morse’s wrist, Jakes long fingers searched for a pulse, stopping over the fluttering beats that pounded against his ghostly skin; a sign of life. At least that was one less thing for Thursday to be annoyed about. God forbid anyone lay a finger on his precious bagman. The thought of what Thursday would do to the assailant brought a smirk to Jakes lips. 

With a sigh, Jakes sat down beside Morse on the street, glancing over the unconscious man. Jakes thought he looked like a twig – spindly and spikey with thorns covering his exterior. He also looked like he never consumed any food. Jakes wasn’t entirely sure that Morse could ingest anything that wasn’t at least slightly alcoholic. But Jakes wasn’t worried. As long as Morse remained vaguely alive he was happy, and he only cared that Morse’s heart kept beating because Thursday would throttle him if Morse died on his watch. Thursday would end up in prison, and with Morse and Jakes dead the force would lose three police officers. Where was the sense in that? So really, Jakes wasn’t keeping Morse alive for any other reason than self-preservation and human decency. 

Jakes dug around in his pocket for a cigarette, grasping at one with stealthily fingers and lighting it shakily. Carefully, Jakes brought the cigarette to his lips and breathed in the burning smoke, letting it sting his throat in a comforting relief. Jakes glanced at Morse, who looked far less agitated than he ever did when conscious. The street they had landed on was desolate, the streets shrouded with darkness and barren of any life forms. It was quiet enough that Jakes could hear Morse’s ragged breaths, the icy clouds that blew from his lips merging with the ashy smoke Jakes breathed from his cigarette. 

It felt like hours before Jakes heard the shrieking sirens of an ambulance hurtling through the ghost town. Jakes watched the bright lights that shone like beams of hope grow closer, climbing through the thick air towards him. “There we go, Morse,” Jakes muttered, looking down at the young detective. “I told you that you wouldn’t die here” Jakes stood up, pushing himself off the sidewalk and hovering over Morse’s body. The arrival of the ambulance occurred in a blurry haze, as if Jakes was drunk and fumbling for a grasp on life. There were paramedics speaking to him and demanding information, but most of Jakes attention was diverted to the limp body of Morse, sheltered by deathly white sheets that were tucked around his dripping, blood stained body. Before Jakes had truly registered what was happening, drunk with relief and fatigue, he was standing in the ambulance and moving down streets, and Morse was still pale and unconscious. 

What followed involved a remarkably short conversation with Fred Thursday, with Jakes leaning against a wall clutching one of the hospitals telephones. Morse had been stabbed. He was in hospital. They said he was going to be okay. Not far out of Oxford. No car. Jakes hung up the phone with the knowledge that the entre city police force would be hounding Morse’s assailant, and Thursday would be at the hospital as soon as he could break the traffic.  
With a sudden lack of adrenaline, Jakes all but collapsed into a feeble hospital chair, fumbling desperately with another cigarette. A nurse that past gave him a queer look, but whatever she read from Jakes’ expression compelled her to move on, ignoring the clouds of dark smoke. Damn Endeavour Morse. Damn his ridiculous ability to get into every possible branch of trouble that could possibly grow from a weak seed. Damn how he made you care because there was something painfully poetic about a man who had no one and saved everyone. A Ridiculous man who was too smart and too selfless and too bloody annoying. Damn Endeavour bloody Morse.  
Jakes internal rant was interrupted by a nurse, staring at Jakes with wide eyes. “Family of Endeavour Morse?” 

“I’m his senior officer” Jakes muttered, and the nurse considered him.  
“His condition is stable” The nurse informed him, and Jakes found himself nodding, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The nurse was talking, a rambling noise of complicated medical terms and hypothermia and reasons that they wanted to monitor him, something about concern for his general wellbeing. Jakes was just focusing on the stab would. His general wellbeing could be a concern once he stopped dying for maybe a week. Just a week of Morse not dying for a change. Would make Jakes’ job a hell of a lot easier. This was like babysitting an accident-prone child who was a hundred times smarter than everyone in the room and bloody knew it. Well, for what he lacked in common sense and general human necessities he made up for in knowledge that you would only ever need in Oxford. 

“Can I see him?” Jakes’ found himself asking. In hindsight, Jakes’ would wonder why the nurse had eventually said yes to his request. Perhaps it was something buried deep in his eyes that the nurse had clawed out. He was taken to the bed Morse lay on, covered in a white sheet up to his shoulders. The white washed out his already pale skin, two tones blending and creating a sickly pallor. Jakes would have to caution Morse against white; it really did nothing for his cloying complexion. He looked almost at peace, but not quite. There was something that lingered around his figure like a clinging ghost that prevented any true peace to rest around his body. Some force that pushed against peace like countries engaged in civil wars. 

Jakes sat beside Morse in an uncomfortable hospital chair, which creaked uncertainty beneath him. He listened to the steady sound of Morse’s raspy breathing, clinging to the sound like an anchor keeping him grounded to reality. An energy monitoring his life. Morse was alive. He was stable and soon Thursday would be here to sweep up the young detective and destroy his demons like a benevolent protector. A protector Morse dearly needed, after all. But for now, Jakes would have to suffice until the thundering presence of Fred Thursday arrived. 

The hospital faded into a lonely silence, nurses flitting across corridors and checking over patients. One of the nurses bent over Morse, measuring whatever it was that nurses measure. She was satisfied, eventually, and looked up at Jakes. “Your friend is healing well, he’ll be fine” She smiled, and Jakes nodded his acknowledgment, glancing at Morse as she left. “I know he’ll be fine” he muttered to himself, his lips turning into a smirk.  
“Too much of a stubborn bastard to die”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know if I should do another chapter? Opinions? Does anyone want another chapter, or is this a nice resolution?  
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
